chapter

sixty

TESSA

What happened? Tell me the entire story!” my mother cries out as Zed lifts me out of his truck. His arms around me jar me back into consciousness, and a blooming sense of embarrassment.

“Tessa’s old roommate slipped something into her drink, and Tessa asked me to bring her here,” Zed tells her half truthfully. I’m relieved that he kept some of the details from her.

“Oh my God! Why would that girl do such a thing?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Young . . . Tessa can explain when she wakes up.”

I am awake! I want to scream, but I can’t. It’s an odd feeling, hearing everything that’s going on around me but not being able to participate in the conversation. I can’t move or speak, my mind is foggy, and my thoughts are twisted—but I’m strangely aware of everything that is happening. What’s happening, though, changes every few minutes: sometimes Zed’s voice turns into Hardin’s, and I swear I hear Hardin’s laughter and see his face when I try to open my eyes. I’m losing it. This drug is making me crazy, and I want it to stop.

Some time passes—I have no idea how much—and I’m placed on what I can tell is the sofa. Slowly, maybe even reluctantly, Zed’s arms slide out from underneath me.

“Well, thank you for bringing her here,” my mother says. “This is just dreadful. When will she wake up?” Her voice is piercing. My head is spinning slowly.

“I don’t know. I think the effects last twelve hours at most. It’s been about three already.”

“How could she be so stupid?” my mother snaps at Zed, and the word “stupid” echoes in my mind until it fades out.

“Who, Steph?” he asks.

“No, Theresa. How could she be that stupid to associate with those people.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Zed answers, defending me. “It was supposed to be a going-away party. Tessa thought the girl was her friend.”

“Friend? Please! Tessa should know better than to try to be friends with that girl, or any of you, for that matter.”

“No disrespect or anything, but you don’t know me. I did just drive for two hours to bring your daughter here,” Zed politely responds.

My mother sighs, and I focus on the sound of her heels clicking on the tile of the kitchen floor.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks her. The couch, I notice, is much softer than Zed’s arms. Hardin’s arms are soft but hard at the same time; the way his muscles strain under his skin is something I always loved to watch. My thoughts are blurring again. I hate this constant shift back and forth between clarity and confusion.

From a distance I hear my mother’s voice say, “No. Thank you for bringing her. I was rude a moment ago, and I apologize for it.”

“I’ll get her clothes and stuff from my car real quick, then be on my way.”

“Okay.” I hear the clicking of her high heels from across the room.

I wait to hear the roar of Zed’s truck. It doesn’t come, or maybe it did already and I missed it. I’m confused. My head is heavy. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here, but I’m thirsty. Did Zed leave yet?

“What the hell are you doing here?” my mother screams, bringing a sharp edge of clarity to the haze. Though I still don’t know what’s happening.

“Is she okay?” a panting, ragged voice asks. Hardin.

He’s here. Hardin.

Unless it’s Zed’s voice deceiving me again. No, I know it’s Hardin. I can feel him here somehow.

“You aren’t coming into this house!” my mother yells. “Did you not hear me! Don’t walk past me like you didn’t hear me!”

I hear the screen door slam shut, and my mother continues to yell.

And then I think I feel his hand on my cheek.

chapter

sixty-one

HARDIN

They couldn’t have been here long—I went twenty miles over the speed limit the whole way. The moment I spot Zed’s truck in the driveway of the small brick house, I nearly vomit. When he steps out onto the porch, my vision goes red.

Zed walks slowly to his truck as I park on the street, not wanting to block him in, so he can just get the fuck out of here. What will I say to him? What will I say to her? Will she even be able to hear me?

“I knew you’d show up here,” he says quietly when I appear in front of him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I growl, biting back my rising anger.

“Maybe because this is all your fault.”

“Are you fucking serious? It’s my fault that Steph is a goddamned psycho?” Yes; yes, it is.

“No, it’s your fault that you didn’t come with Tessa to that party in the first place. You should have seen her face when I busted that door in.” He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the memory. My chest tightens. Tessa must not have told him that we aren’t together. Does that mean she’s still holding on, the way that I am?

“I . . . I didn’t even know she was going there, so fuck off. Where is she?”

“Inside.” He states the obvious with a murderous glare.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that—you shouldn’t even be here in the first place,” I remind him.

“If it wasn’t for me, she would have been raped and God knows what else—”

My hands find the collar of his leather jacket, and I push him up against the side of his truck. “No matter how many times you try, no matter how many times you ‘save’ her, she will never want you. Don’t forget that.”

I give him one last push and step away. I want to hit him, bust his fucking nose for being such a smug asshole, but Tessa is just inside that house, and seeing her is much more important right now. As I walk past his truck windows I see on his seat Tessa’s purse and . . . dress.

She doesn’t have clothes on?

“Why is her dress off?” I dare to ask. I yank on the door handle and gather her things into my arms. When he doesn’t answer immediately, I glare at him, waiting for his response.

“They took it off of her,” he simply remarks, his expression grim.

“Fuck,” I murmur and turn to walk up the path to Tessa’s mother’s house.

As I reach the porch, Carol comes out to block the front door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Her daughter’s wounded, and her first thought is to scream at me. Fucking lovely.

“I need to see her.” I grab the handle to the screen door. She shakes her head, but moves out of my way. I get the feeling that she knows I’ll push right past her.

“You aren’t coming into this house!” she shouts.

I ignore her and step around her. “Did you not hear me! Don’t walk past me like you didn’t hear me!” The screen door slams somewhere behind me as I scan the small living room to find my girl.

And then I freeze momentarily when I see her. She’s lying on the couch with her knees bent slightly, her hair like a blond halo around her head, and her eyes closed. Carol continues to harass me, threatening to call the cops, but I don’t give a shit. I step over to Tessa, then kneel down so that I’m level with her face. Without thought, I brush a thumb over her cheekbone and cup her flushed cheek in my palm.

“Christ,” I curse and watch closely as her chest moves up and down slowly.

“Fuck, Tess, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” I whisper to her, hoping that she can hear me. She’s so beautiful, still and calm, her lips parted slightly, innocence clear on her breathtaking face.

Carol of course jumps into the moment, spewing her anger at me. “You’ve got that right! This is your fault. Now get out of my house before I have you dragged out by the police!”

Without turning to her, I say, “Would you just give it a rest? I’m not going anywhere. Go ahead and call the police. Have them show up here this late at night—you’ll be the talk of the town, and we all know you don’t want that.” I know she’s glaring at me, throwing daggers in her mind, but I can’t look away from the girl in front of me.